Shapeshifter
by oxlabyrinthxo
Summary: Set during "Skin". What if the shapeshifter hadn't just planned to kill Sam, but do something else as well? Can Dean rescue Sam of his hellish nightmares, of him?
1. Prolouge

Shapeshifter

Prologue:

Sam groaned as the Shapeshifter tied his hands together with a course rope from Dean's bag. "What are you going to do to me?" Sam held his breath.

"I'm not going to do anything, Dean will though." The Shapeshifter gave him a smirk that was out of place on Dean's handsome face.

"They'll never catch him." Sam said to the monster, hoping to distract it.

"Oh it doesn't matter. Murder of the firsts, his own brother, he'll be hunted the rest of his life."The Shapeshifter told him matter-of-factly. He walked towards Sam who had moved to lie on the floor instead of uncomfortably against the leg of the pool table.

"I must say I will be sorry to lose this skin. Your brother has a lot of good qualities; you should appreciate them more." The Shapeshifter said a cruel glint in the eyes identical to his brother's. The Shapeshifter moved out of Sam's sight for a moment, he heard the clinking of glass and the sound of liquid being poured. "Cheers." The Shapeshifter said as he pulled a knife from Dean's bag. The Shapeshifter walked menacingly towards Sam. In a last ditch effort he brought his legs up and kicked the creature, the knife falling from his hand.

"You son of a bitch," the Shapeshifter cursed. Sam began to move towards the weapon, bubbles of hope building into his stomach. When he was within reach a foot stomped down, hard, onto Sam's hand.

"I don't think so Sammy."The Shapeshifter crouched down to stare into Sam's face. Dean's scent invaded his nostrils, causing the younger Winchester to shiver. This thing was so much like Dean, but at the same time not like Dean. Miniscule differences in posture, facial expressions - things that someone who'd spent the majority of their life around Dean would notice. The Shapeshifter picked up the knife and held it in front of Sam's face.

"This what you want?" He moved the knife to rest against Sam's cheek. He pressed and dragged the tip of the blade against his skin. Blood bloomed from the small wound. Sam's green eyes were wide and unblinking as the Shapeshifter pulled the knife and made small nicks on his face. Sam was afraid to move with the blade so close to his throat and with one of his arms indisposed. Sam swallowed hard as the Shapeshifter dragged the knife along Sam's stubble. The Shapeshifter moved away from Sam for a moment, enough time for Sam to roll away and try to formulate an escape plan.

As Sam lay on his back trying to wiggle free of his bonds, the Shapeshifter came to straddle Sam's lap. He froze at the contact. "What are you doing?" Sam whispered. The Shapeshifter didn't answer as he ran the tip of the knife gently up and down Sam's clothed chest. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

"Well there's something Dea- I've always wanted to do to you Sammy."

"It's _Sam_," he spat, trying to buck the Shapeshifter off him. But the monster wouldn't have it. He took the knife and slit open the Winchester's shirt to reveal Sam's well defined, scarred torso. The Shapeshifter set the blade aside to lean forward and lick the planes of Sam's chest.

"What are you doing?!" Sam panicked and tried to squirm out from under the Shapeshifter. That only succeeded in arousing his captor more. He pressed his hips down onto Sam's stomach.

"Do you feel that Sammy?" The Shapeshifter smirked wickedly. "This is what you do to your big brother."

"You're not him!" Sam cried desperately.

"Aren't I?" The Shapeshifter asked. "I look just like him; I have all his memoires, genetically identically. I _am_ him Sammy."

"No you're not!" Sam insisted stubbornly. "Dean would _never_ do this. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Oh, but he wants to baby boy." The Shapeshifter moaned as he rolled his hips against Sam. "You don't know _how_ many cold showers I was forced to take because of you."

Sam shook his head causing his brown locks to flop over his eyes, serving as a barrier from this harsh reality. The Shapeshifter pushed his bangs back from Sam's orbs and for a moment, Sam believed that this _was_ Dean, and his body slacked and he crumbled under the certainty of his situation.

"That's right Sammy, surrender to you big brother." The Shapeshifter coaxed as he undid Sam's pants, pulling them down to pool at his bound ankles. Sam tried to use his bound hands to push the Shapeshifter off but he just pinned Sam's arms above his head with one of Dean's muscular arms. The Shapeshifter used his free hand to grab the knife and remove Sam's boxers. The he dropped the knife again and grabbed Sam's spongy length and fondled it till it began to harden. Sam tried to hold in his mewls of pleasure. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out what was happening to him.

"Hey!" The Shapeshifter growled, squeezing Sam's fully hardening sex painfully. Sam's eyes opened against his will as he moaned loudly. "I want to look into your eyes as I violate you." And with that the Shapeshifter's free hand left Sam's arousal to remove his own pants and boxers. He then positioned himself at Sam's entrance. Sam felt the tip of the Shapeshifter brush against him before quickly entering his body. Sam bit down in his lip and drew blood. Tears spilled from his eyes as the Shapeshifter had his way with him, tearing him apart with each thrust.

Sam's organ was pressed between their stomachs, and after some time the pain turned to pleasure that Sam fought against. He struggled to silent his cries and stifle the jolts of desire he felt each time the Shapeshifter plunged into him. Soon the Shapeshifter made use of his free hand by teasing and stroking Sam's flesh, going from his chest, slowly inching for his prize – Sam's erection.

He lost track of how long the sweet torture lasted, but eventually Sam's body completely betrayed him as he spilled his sticky seed onto his belly. Shortly after the Shapeshifter cam inside Sam with a grunt. He lay on top of him, panting while Sam began to sob silently as the full weight of what had been done hit him. The Shapeshifter noticed this. He gently cupped Sam's face. The younger Winchester saw a look of concern on the Shapeshifter's face as he pulled out. He moved away from Sam and stood.

"Sammy, I -"

"HEY!" They both turned to see Dean standing in the doorway holding a gun with a look of pure rage on his face. Dean fired the gun, emptying the magazine of silver bullets into the Shapeshifter. Dean rushed to Sam when he was sure the damn thing was dead.

"Sammy," he whispered hoarsely as he reached to comfort his little brother.

"Don't touch me!" Sam cried brokenly as he turned onto his side to curl up into the fetal position, his back facing Dean.

"Oh my God, Sam!" Rebecca walked in to see the state of her friend. She moved to kneel beside him.

"Don't touch me!" Sam continued to chant as if it were his life line. Rebecca moved back to allow Dean room to calm his brother. He saw the knife that was laying near Sam, and cut him free of his bindings.

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me." Sam pleaded. Dean ignored him and pulled up his pants to rest loosely on his waist. Then he picked him up and carried him off, shivering, towards the Impala, only stopping to rip his pendant and ring off the bastard who'd raped him Sammy.

As he drove Sam to the Emergency Room, Sam cried and huddled against the passenger door. It pained Dean to see Sam afraid of him, to be looked at like he was the monster. Dean pushed the accelerator down, gunning it towards the hospital, as he reached into his pocket to dial their father's number.


	2. Aftermath

So there isn't much Sam in this chapter, and it's kind of short, but it's a filler chapter, so I can get this story as close to the storyline in season one as possible. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to the amazing Eric Kripke, and the CW.

Chapter One: Aftermath

For three days the only sight that greeted Sam was the white washed walls and the hospital staff. He'd not seen hide or hair of his elder brother, and that was just fine with him. It wasn't like he blamed Dean for what happened to him, but Sam didn't want to see him all the same.

Dean on the other hand stayed sitting on the floor outside Sam's room, out of sight, constantly calling their father. There had been no answer yet, but Dean wasn't giving up. He dialed the familiar number and waited patiently for the voicemail to pick up.

"_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency call my son, Dean. 785-555-0197(_i)_. He can help."_ There was a beep, signaling Dean to speak.

"Hey uh, Dad, it's me, Dean, again. I don't know if you got my last couple of messages, but uh," his voice caught, he cleared his throat and continued, "Sammy's hurt and we need you to come down here. Talk to ya soon." Dean flipped shut his cell phone and sighed. Sam was being released today, and Dean already knew Sam wouldn't want to go with him. He looked at the phone clutched in his hands. It was becoming obvious that their father wasn't coming, so Dean would have to do the next best thing. Call Bobby.

"Hello?" Bobby's gruff voice answered.

"Hey Bobby," Dean replied, his voice thick with emotion.

"What's wrong Dean?" Bobby asked, cutting to the chase.

"We had some trouble on our last hunt – a 'shifter," Dean began.

"Are you boys alright?"

"Well the thing is Bobby, Sam's hurt real bad, and I can't get a hold of dad, so can you look after Sam for a bit?" Dean pleaded.

"Why can't you take care of him? I know you'll have to lay off the hunts but hell, Dean he's your brother and-"

"He got raped Bobby," Dean interrupted, "by the Shapeshifter, while it looked like me." Dean choked out.

Bobby didn't speak for a few moments while this information sunk in. "When is he being released?" He finally asked.

"Sometime this afternoon," Dean answered.

"I'll catch the next plane out, where are you boys at?"

"St. Lukes Hospital. 232 S Woods Mill Rd, Chesterfield, Missouri," Dean sighed with relief. "Thank you Bobby."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." With that Bobby hung up. Knowing Bobby was on his way he rose to his feet. He snuck a glance at Sam in his room, he was fast asleep. He walked into the without a sound.

"I'm sorry Sammy, but your better-" his voice broke off, "uh better off without me." He managed to say while fighting back the flood of tears that threatened to fall. "I love you baby boy." Dean leaned over and kissed his forehead. Sam stirred a bit, causing Dean to jerk back from his former position. He waited, his heart pounding rapidly, praying that he wouldn't wake up. He didn't. Dean relaxed and moved back to Sam's side. He took his hand in his as he stared at his brother's face. He tried to memorize every feature, knowing he may never see his brother again. His hand released Sam's and moved to brush a lock of unruly hair out of his face, but his hand lingered. "Goodbye Sam," Dean said as he tore his hand off Sam's face and he walked out of Sam's life, perhaps for good.

As the door to Sam's room closed, a pair of sad eyes opened up to stare at the closed door.

* * *

i. If you watched the version of "Phantom Traveler" (episode 4 of season 1) that aired on December 13, 2005, you heard the number they showed in closed captioning for Dean's cell number. They changed it from the original airing. They also changed the message you will hear if you call the original number that John said. If you call 866-907-3235 now, you will hear "Dad? We really need to hear from you. Leave me a message, text me, check your jwinchester1246gmail. Anything. We have new info. "

On the closed caption, they listed a different phone number with the area code 785, instead of the 866 number. The area code 785 is from Kansas, which is where the characters are originally from.

In the dialogue for this episode, they give an actual (toll-free) number for Dean's cell phone: 866-907-3235, rather than one of those unreal 555- numbers. However, in the closed captions they do give a 555- number, 785-555-0179. Presumably the original script, from which the caption text was derived, had the 555- number but then they changed it for the actual on-screen dialogue.

For a time, Dean's cell number was a real number, 1-866-907-3235, with Jensen Ackles reading the message: "This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message. If you are calling about 11-2-83, page me with your coordinates."


	3. Part I

Disclaimer: You know the drill, don't own, don't sue. ((And please don't steal my disclaimer. thanks))

_22 YEARS AGO:_

_Previously on __Supernatural__:_

_Sammy! _

_(MARY GASPS)_

_Take your brother outside as fast as you can; now Dean go!_

_NOW TWO BROTHERS…_

_Dad's been on a hunting trip…_

_(SCREAMS)_

_And he hasn't been home in a few days_

…_ARE ON A QUEST FOR ANSWERS_

_I swore I was done hunting_

_(SAM SCREAMS)_

_NO!_

_(JESSICA BURSTS INTO FLAMES)_

_Jess!_

_I think Dad wants us to pick up where he left off, you know, saving people, hunting things…_

_No I gotta find Jessica's killer._

_(GUN LOCKS, SAM DROPS IT INTO THE IMPALA'S TRUNK)_

_SUPERNATURAL_

Chapter Two: Hookman

A loud eerie screech. Crimson everywhere, dripping from his body onto the car. She had begged him to stay but now rope dug into his dead flesh. A scream tore from her throat before she was even aware of what she was seeing: her boyfriend, Rich, dead, slashed and hanging upside down from a bridge. His blood-spattered hand slid along the roof of the automobile with an audible squeak.

*****

"Alright, thank you for your time," Dean sighed and hung up the payphone as he moved to slouch against it. There were no John Does matching his errant father's description and not even so much as one traffic violation to give him a hint of John Winchester's whereabouts. Dean gave up his mission to locate his father and retreated to his beloved Impala.

Dean was currently en route to a hunt in Ankeny, Iowa, where a boy had been killed by what the witness was calling an "invisible killer". Dean figured it would be a standard salt n' burn kind of job, perfect for trying to get his mind off things.

The empty passenger seat functioned as a persistent reminder of his brother's absence. The whole 4 hours and 22 minute drive over 269 miles was hell. Dean was having second thoughts about leaving Sam but he would just shake it off and tell himself it was better this way. Sam could have a normal life again; Sam could be living average Joe or Joe the Plummer's American dream while Dean kept on the never-ending crusade of the family business.

Dean continued to drive, the Impala oddly quiet, no classic rock music blaring from the speakers. He drove the whole way into the Ankeny in this state, all the way to the fraternity house the victim had belonged to.

"Nice wheels," he commented to the two grease monkey males working on their cars. They stared incredulously at him and sneered at his appearance. His hair was oily and unwashed, the collar popped on his favorite leather jacket. "I'm your fraternity brother from Ohio; I'm new in town, a transfer, looking for a place to stay, " he explained, hoping they would buy his story. They did, or they just didn't care, but he was led into the house and his temporary room for the duration of the hunt was pointed out to him.

Dean knocked on the open door, his eyes taking in the purple-painted boy in yellow sweatpants already in the room.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your new roommate." Dean gave a half of a smirk and raised his eyebrow. _What the hell?_ His first impression of college wasn't so great.

"Then do me a favor and get my back. Big game today."

"I'm not much of an artist." Dean shuddered. "That was more of my brother's hobby. Man, the things he could do with a brush…" Dean trailed off, ignoring the look on the frat boy's purple striped face. He continued to paint himself as Dean sat down.

"So uh," Dean picked up a magazine off the table, "Murph, is it true?" Dean asked.

"What?" Murph turned to look at him questioningly.

"I heard one of the guys around here got killed last week," Dean answered matter-of-factly.

Murph's face dropped. "Yeah."

"What happened?" Dean flipped through the magazine, pretending not to be overly interested in this whole situation.

"Well, they're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through." Murph turned back to face the mirror. Dean could see the rage on his face. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Rich was a good guy."

"Rich was with somebody?" Dean prodded.

"Not just _somebody_. Lori Sorenson." Murph looked a little smug for his deceased buddy.

"Who's Lori Sorenson?" Dean sighed; this guy was beginning to get on Dean's nerves. "You missed a spot. Just down there in the back." Dean tried to hide a laugh as Murph twisted around unnaturally to try and see the fabled "missed spot".

"Lori's a freshman. She's a local." Murph's eyebrows wiggled suggestively when he said that she was a local. His voice had also dropped a few octaves. "Super hot," he whispered. "And get this; she's a reverend's daughter." Dean closed the magazine. Now this was getting interesting. He leaned forward.

"You wouldn't happen to know which church, would you?" Dean gave an innocent smile while his eyes twinkled deviously.

*****

"Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter. And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means to us a church-" Dean walked into the building with a loud slam of the door. He gave a sheepish smile and offered a small wave to all the people who had turned to look at him.

"-as a community and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passing. So, please, let us pray." Dean rolled his eyes at the sermon as he took his seat in a pew towards the back. "For peace, for guidance and for the power to protect our children." As if on cue, the whole congregation bowed their heads in unison. Dean looked around for anyone not participating and then his eyes rested upon the reverend who was looking at him. Dean quickly bowed his head to avoid any further suspicion.

After they prayed the parishioners were dismissed and, as Dean was walking out, he overheard a conversation.

"I can't; it's Sunday night," said a particularly good-looking blond that Dean had noticed during worship.

"It's just us girls. We're gonna do tequila shots and watch _Reality Bites,_" her friend said, tempting even Dean to blow off his investigation and attend this "all girls" shindig.

"My dad makes dinner every Sunday night," the blond protested.

"Come on Lori!" _So the blond is Lori Sorenson. Nice. _Dean thought to himself. "I know this has been hard but you are allowed to have fun."

"I'll try." She smiled.

Lori's equally attractive-looking friend rolled her eyes. "Okay." The two hugged and then the brunette mouthed something to Lori, pointed at her and then left. _Now_, Dean decided,_ this is where I introduce myself to the vic's girlfriend._ Her friend walked off and Dean approached.

"Are you Lori?" Dean began.

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly.

"My name is Dean; I just transferred here, uh, to the university." He acted slightly nervous, as to look more natural.

"I saw you inside," Lori admitted with a slight blush. Dean grinned. This was going fantastic.

"I don't wanna bother you. I just heard about what happened. I wanted to say how sorry I am. I kinda know what you're going through. I saw someone get hurt once. It's something you don't forget," he rambled. In actuality, Dean had seen several people get hurt, by the horrific things of nightmares: all a part of the job.

She looked at him oddly and then she jerked and turned as her father approached them. "Dad, um, this is Dean. He's a new student."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon," Dean lied smoothly.

"Thank you very much. It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message," Reverend Sorenson said. Dean chuckled slightly. This guy had no idea, did he?

"Listen, uh, I'm new in town actually and, um, I'm lookin' for a, ahem, church group," he said.

"Well, feel free to look around and ask questions," Reverend Sorenson smiled and then left to talk to more members of his fellow worshippers.

"Tell me, Lori, what are the police saying?" Dean asked as soon as the old man was out of earshot.

"Well, they don't have a lot to go on; I think they blame me for that," Lori said bitterly.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked He was pulling out all the stops on his college student façade.

"My story. I was so scared; I guess I was seeing things." Lori sighed.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't real." Dean gave her a grin, which made the corners of Lori's mouth twitch. Dean inwardly groaned. Channeling the wide-eyed, puppy-faced Sam was hard. He mentally winced as he thought about his poor Sammy. He left Lori with a polite goodbye, his good mood thoroughly ruined by memories of his brother's plight. He stormed off to his Impala and made his way to the college library for some good, old-fashioned research.


End file.
